âI donât know why, Mr. Ryecart. Itâs not as if I could fire you.â
Lucas made an exasperated sound. âThatâs not what I meant, and you know it! Canât you forget our respective positions for a single moment?â
âNo, since you ask, I canât forget. Neither would you, I imagine, if you were in my position.â
âUnderneath me?â he suggested.
âYes!â Sheâd walked right into it.
âIf only you were.â His eyes made a leisurely trip down her body and back again. The elevator arrived and Lucas stepped in with her. Tory wanted to step out again, but it seemed an act of cowardice. What could he do in the five seconds it took for the elevator to reach the ground floor?
He could hit the emergency button. Tory didnât realize that was what heâd done until the elevator lurched to a halt.
âYou canât do that!â
He grinned. âFor now, letâs talk.â
âI donât want to talk.â
He drawled, âFair enough. Letâs not talk.â And with one step he closed the distance between themâ¦.
âLUCAS RYECART?â Tory repeated the name, but it meant nothing to her.
âYou must have heard of him,â Simon Dixon insisted. âAmerican entrepreneur, bought up Howard Productions and Chelton TV last year.â
âI think Iâd remember a name like that,â Tory told her fellow production assistant. âAnyway, Iâm not interested in the wheeling and dealing of money men. If Eastwich needs an injection of cash, does it matter where it comes from?â
âIf it means one of us ending up at the local job centre,â Simon warned dramatically, âthen, yes, Iâd say it matters.â
âThatâs only rumour.â Tory knew from personal experience that rumours bore little relationship to the truth.
âDonât be so sure. Do you know what they called him at Howard Productions?â It was a rhetoric question as Simon took lugubrious pleasure in announcing, âThe Grim Reaper.â
This time Tory laughed in disbelief. After a year in Documentary Affairs at Eastwich Productions, she knew Simon well enough. If there wasnât drama already in a situation, he would do his best to inject it. He was such a stirrer people called him The Chef.
âSimon, are you aware of your nickname?â she couldnât resist asking now.
âOf course.â He smiled as he countered, âAre you?â
Tory shrugged. She wasnât, but supposed she had one.
âThe Ice Maiden.â It was scarcely original. âBecause of your cool personality, do you think?â
âUndoubtedly,â agreed Tory, well aware of the real reason.
âStill, itâs unlikely that youâll fall victim to staff cuts,â Simon continued to muse. âI mean, what man can resist Shirley Temple hair, eyes like Bambi and more than a passing resemblance to whatâs-her-name in Pretty Woman?â
Tory pulled a face at Simonâs tongue-in-cheek assessment of her looks. âAnyone who prefers blonde supermodel typesâ¦Not to mention those of an entirely different persuasion.â
âI should be so lucky,â he acknowledged in camp fashion, before disclaiming, âNo, this oneâs definitely straight. In fact, he has been described as Godâs gift to women.â
âReally.â Tory remained unimpressed. âI thought that was some rock singer.â
âIâm sure God is capable of bestowing more than one gift to womankind,â Simon declared, âif only to make up for the many disadvantages heâs given you.â
Tory laughed, unaffected by Simonâs anti-women remarks. Simon was anti most things.
âAnyway, I think we can safely assume, with a little judicious eyelash-batting, youâll achieve job security,â he ran on glibly, âso that leaves myself or our beloved leader, Alexander the Not-so-Great. Who would you put your money on, Tory dearest?â
âI have no idea.â Tory began to grow impatient with Simon and his speculations. âBut if youâre that worried, perhaps you should apply yourself to some work on the remote chance this Ryecart character comes to survey his latest acquisition.â
This was said in the hope that Simon would allow her to get on with her own work. Oblivious, Simon remained seated on the edge of her desk, dangling an elegantly shod foot over one side.
âNot so remote,â he warned. âThe grapevine has him due at eleven hundred hours to inspect the troops.â
âOh.â Tory began to wonder how reliable the rest of his information was. Would Eastwich Productions be subject to some downsizing?
âBound to be Alex,â Simon resumed smugly. âHeâs been over the hill and far away for some months now.â
Tory was really annoyed this time. âThatâs not true. Heâs just had a few problems to sort out.â
âA few!â Simon scoffed at this understatement. âHis wife runs off to Scotland. His house is repossessed. And his breath smells like an advert for Polo mints⦠We do know what that means, Goldilocks?â